The Era -- Day By Day

[LizzieMaine]

("C'MAWN, KRAUSE!" bellows Sally, clanging a pipe wrench against the bedroom radiator. "GIVE OUT!" "Don' holleh," admonishes Leonora, her palm clutched to her right ear. "It hoits, Ma. It hoits." "Lemme see, " sighs Sally, tossing the wrench onto the bed, where Stella the Cat looks up just long enough to regard the entire situation with distaste. Sally examines her daughter's aching ear and notices the anticipated swelling of another infection. "S'awright, honey," she exhales, making for the bathroom for a warm washcloth. "Every damn yeeh," she growls under her breath as a knock sounds at the door. "Heeh now," she instructs Leonora, pressing the compress to the side of her head. "You jus' hold it t'eh now, an' I'll be right back." She rushes into the kitchen to answer the door, to find Alice looming in the hallway, in a boudoir cap, chenille bathrobe, and carpet slippers. "We hoid ya awready," she growls, as Sally beckons her inside. "Siddy's doin'a best 'e can wit't'at berleh, but..." "Well tell 'im t' cawl Uncle Frank," snaps Sally. "Y't'ink he ain' tried?" retorts Alice. "He was inta Schreibstein's till'ey closed up f't'night, try'n'ta cawl oveh teh. Phone jus' rung an' rung." "You try Ma's place?" challenges Sally. "Maybe he was oveh t'eh f'dinneh'ra sump'n." "No answeh t'eh neit'eh," shrugs Alice. "T'at ain' like him," ponders Sally. "He's gotta lawt awn'is min' t'ese days," exhales Alice. "He's whatchacawl distracted." "Ma ain' distract'ed t'ough," rejoinds Sally. "I dunno why SHE don' ans'eh t'phone." "No," replies Alice, thru narrowed eyes, "t'at ain' like 'eh." She flicks a glance at the electric clock buzzing on the kitchen wall. "It's two a'clock inna mawrnin'. Look, you stay 'eeh. I'm gonna -- well, you stay 'eeh. I'm gonna --" "Jus' tell ya husban' I need heat," hastens Sally. "I gotta lit'l goil inn'eh wit'eh eeh swelled out t'heeh." "Sit tight," admonishes Alice. "I'll be back.")

Canadian Prime Minister Mackenzie King called today for a full debate in Parliament on all angles of his order-in-council to conscript Canadian youth for overseas military service. Rejecting a suggestion that the House of Commons debate on the issue be curtailed to hasten a vote of confidence in his government, King stated that he will not attempt to "infringe" the parliamentary rights of members. Dozens of French-speaking liberals were expected to go on record today in opposition to the conscription order, but are also expected to endorse King's leadership even though a formal vote of confidence may be delayed.

The first-ever revolt of a major motion picture studio against the so-called "Hays Office" has broken out in Hollywood, with Warner Bros. Pictures, Inc. announcing its withdrawal from the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors Association of America. The decision to pull out of the MPPDA follows months of dispute between the studio and the association over matters of labor negotiation, and what the studio deemed disagreement over what constitutes "good taste" when it comes to Warners' roster of "sweater girls." A studio spokesman indicated that Warners' will now handle both labor issues and questions of taste on its own.


("These books?" wonders Mrs. Ginsburg, indicating a small stack of volumes on her parlor table. "For Leonora," nods Mr. Ginsburg. "Hmm," hmms Mrs G. "'The Story of Philosophy by Will Durant.' A bit advanced." "Dr. Minkoff tells me," enthuses Mr. G., "he found her off in a corner at the clinic. Reading 'Psychology of the Child." "Dr. Minkoff, the comedian," chuckles Mrs. G. "Three years old she is." "She is," nods Mr. G. "And so I thought perhaps, a book for beginners." "Don't you think," suggests Mrs. G., "perhaps a toy instead? A doll?" "A toy you break and it's forgotten," observes Mr. G. "An idea," he continues, tapping the side of his head, "you have with you forever." "Mmm," concedes Mrs. G. "But perhaps, a few things you NEED to forget, to have room for all the others." "Ah," nods Mr. G, lighting his pipe and taking a contemplative puff. "Perhaps, then, also, a doll.")

("Noel Cowehd?" sputters Joe, looking up from a wrinkled copy of "Stars and Stripes." "Who caehs what Noel Cowehd says about anyt'ing." "Nevuh huhd'v 'im," scoffs the Corporal firing a jet of tobacco juice into a snowbank. "Ain' missin' nut'n," adds Joe, expertly crossing the Corporal's brown streak with one of his own. "Gimme Olsen 'n Johnson." "Nevuh huhda them neithuh," shrugs the Corporal. "Ahhhh," sighs Joe, relishing the memory. "Hellzapoppin'. Me'n Sal went t'see t'at up at t' Winteh Gawrden one time. Te'zzis guy wawkin' back'n foet' wit' a plant. An' ev'ry time y'see 'im t'plant's biggeh till afteh t'show he's sittin' inna tree out'na lawbby." The Corporal cocks a skeptical eye. "New Yo'k," he sighs, shaking his head...)

(Peace on earth, eventually.)

(Beans Reardon is right up there with Jocko Conlan and Ziggy Sears for the title of Best Umpire Name of 1944. Sorry, George "Meathead" Magerkurth.)

(Also, no fair doing aerials with a bird.)

(Hey, you made your bed -- now lie about it.)

("Chere Tingle?" Somebody's having too much fun with this story.)

(Yeahhhhh, pretty sure she'll never see any of them again.)

(Yes, by all means, and then we can move on to something else.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

I don't know what he's so worked up about, it wasn't much of a nose to begin with.

I dunno, but it *would* make a hell of a storyline.

"What nerve!" fumes Lionel Barrymore. "You know, he really was like that," sighs Ethel.

"Hmph!" -- Stella the Cat.

"Zat so? I got four of 'em. But you never asked me, did you?"

"But now I won't do it. Instead, I'm running for Congress!"

"Really? Gee, I wish the Asp was here."

Regulations state that it should be worn precisely one finger's width above the eyebrow. Better start plucking, son.

Anyway, they'd be more likely to steal the pig.

"Dracula's doll!!"

 

[Fading Fast]

"She is," nods Mr. G. "And so I thought perhaps, a book for beginners." "Don't you think," suggests Mrs. G., "perhaps a toy instead? A doll?" "A toy you break and it's forgotten," observes Mr. G. "An idea," he continues, tapping the side of his head, "you have with you forever." "Mmm," concedes Mrs. G. "But perhaps, a few things you NEED to forget, to have room for all the others." "Ah," nods Mr. G, lighting his pipe and taking a contemplative puff. "Perhaps, then, also, a doll.")

The Aristotelian balance in child rearing.

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Yes, by all means, and then we can move on to something else.

I'll say it again, Bo deserves a better comicstrip around him. I'll also deny I ever said it, but Sandy wouldn't be Sandy without the Orphan Annie world around him.

"What's that?"
"Nothing, buddy."

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[LizzieMaine]

("You betteh tell me what's goin' awn," threatens Sally. "Ma was s'posta take Leonoreh t'is mawrnin', an' she neveh showed up, an' I hadda leave 'eh wit' t' neighbehs. An'nen t'night I come oveh'r'eeh an' fin' YOU." "I dunno," shrugs Bink Scanlan, arrayed in Ma's apron, and looking up from the confession magazine spread before her on the counter. "She tol' me she was goin' away f'ra coupl'a days. She gimme ten bucks an' says t' wawtch t'stoeh till she gets back. Ten bucks she gimme. T'at's money. Ten bucks." "She musta tol'ya we'h she went," demands Sally. "She did'n," insists Bink. She was in'eeh woikin' an' she gawt a phone cawl, an' got awl woiked up 'bout sump'n, wrote sump'n down onna coveh'ra t'phone book t'eh, an'nen runs upstaiehs, runs back down carryin' a grip, t'rows t'en bucks at me, an'nat'sa last I seen'v'eh." "Gimme t'at phone book," commands Sally. "Shove it 'eeh." She squints at the stained cover, scrawled with assorted doodles, and her gazes fixes on a single word. "Peekskill," she reads. "Did she go t' PEEKSKILL?" "I dunno," shrugs Bink, with a definitive crack of her gum. "Why," soliloquizes Sally, "would Ma go t'Peekskill. Why would ANYBODY go to Peekskill?" "Change 'a scenery?" offers Bink. Sally's eyes narrow as she turns over the matter in her mind...)

("Hmph!" hmphs Alice. "T'ey neveh carry awn like t'at at t' Ol' Reliable!" "Heh," hehs Krause,recalling occasions when they did.)

Barring a Congressional investigation, years may elapse before the public learns all the names of those responsible for the disaster at Pearl Harbor, and the reason why Admiral James O. Richardson had, prior to the Japanese attack three years ago, been summarily relieved of command. The War and Navy Departments have practically closed the book on the matter by announcing that the results of service investigations and the conclusions of theSecretaries of War and Navy showed that no further action should be taken against either Maj. Gen. Walter C. Short or Rear Admiral Husband E. Kimmel. From Dallas, Short issued a statement declaring that when the full story is made known, he is certain of "complete vindiction before the American people. An attorney representing Admiral Kimmel stated that the government findings mean that his client "has been cleared."

("I don't know, but either way they'd better have their ration book!")

(And the winner takes on Germany.)

("Jivin' With His Goose" sounds much dirtier than it probably is.)

("Well, wear a coat at least, it's December.")

(Wait, didn't we see this once in a Charlie Chan picture?)

("Good thing I keep the Sears catalog right here next to the bed!")

(AMERICA'S NUMBER ONE HERO DOG hopes this isn't another racetrack story.)

 

[LizzieMaine]

And in the Daily News...

"Pat Teased Him With Her Hula -- Then Dorsey Raged, Hall Claims." Hey, it scans!

"I t'ought we was stayin' put f'ra while," fumes Joe. "An'now we'eh movin' out again? AWREADY?" "Fahn bah me," shrugs the Corporal. "Ah nevuh did lahk t'stay in one place ennuh too lawng. B'sides, yo' th' one complainin' how it's cold. Keepin' movin'll keep yuh wawrm." "Ya complainin' too," growls Joe. "Ah'm allowed to complain," scowls the Corporal, pointing to the lack of a "T" under the chevrons on his overcoat sleeve. "But'chew, yo' jus' heeuh t'wuhk." Joe ejects a stream of brown juice in response. "Ah'll ovuhlook that breach uh discipline," huffs the Corporal, "if yuh gimme anothuh chaw offuh that plug." Joe scowls and hands over the tobacco. "Rank," nods the Corporal, tearing off a chunk, "has its priv'lujj'es."

WAC regulations also state that the cap is to be worn centered on the head. Whattayou think, you're in the RAF?

Skeez doesn't want a girl because he's still upset Trixie beat him at wrestling when they were twelve.

Nah, it's just a really big fly.

The ritual continues.

Oh, lets!

She'll have him sworn into the Junior Commandos in no time.

"Of course, I did it on a mule."

Good move, DICK.

 

[Fading Fast]

"Well, wear a coat at least, it's December."

Kudos to her for making the architecture of that dress even work.

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Wait, didn't we see this once in a Charlie Chan picture?

"Jane Arden" and B movies have a lot in common.